What makes a good screenplay? What are the differences between a well-made television program and a movie that's shown in a theater? And what makes a film award-worthy?
Before I took my first class in screenwriting (beginning screenwriting) from Sandi Berg at USC, I read about 14 or so books about the subject. I wrote with enthusiasm but the skill of a beginner (think the first scrapings a child's bow makes as it is drawn across a violin's strings) Sandi's class, part of the School of Cinema's Summer Production Workshop, was one of the major reasons I was accepted into the Master of Professional Writing Program (MPW), also at USC.
The MPW program was once offered by the School of Cinematic Arts; while its early alumni are still invited to SCA events, the MPW program is now completely disassociated with SCA.
Dr. Jim Ragan was chair for much of the time I was in the MPW program. He often said that he wanted MPW graduates to be successful in more than one genre; our guest speakers had written plays and screenplays; they had written novels and short stories and some were poets.
My mentors included novelist Gina Nahai, who told me that a story I was working on was a "hell of a story," and introduced me to her agent, Barbara Lowenstein; I was thrilled to have been selected by the faculty to receive a scholarship from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences to work with my mentor, Irvin Kershner, one semester.
I'd work full-time as a director of marketing and then commute to L.A.; attend class from 7:00 to 10:00 one or two evenings a week, and return home after 11:00. Just walking onto the USC campus energized me; every class I attended I'd hear something or learn something that I knew would be helpful to me or my colleagues. Every class this happened, without fail. I'm writing about some of those pearls and diamonds and emeralds in this blog.
I'd work full-time as a director of marketing and then commute to L.A.; attend class from 7:00 to 10:00 one or two evenings a week, and return home after 11:00. Just walking onto the USC campus energized me; every class I attended I'd hear something or learn something that I knew would be helpful to me or my colleagues. Every class this happened, without fail. I'm writing about some of those pearls and diamonds and emeralds in this blog.
After I graduated, I felt a let-down. One of my top five personality strengths in the Clifton Strengthsfinder test is "learner," but it wasn't learning for learning's sake that I was grieving; I still didn't have answers to some basic questions about screenwriting.
USC allows alumni, with permission from the department, to continue to take classes. At first, the School of Cinematic Arts' writing division didn't let me take the classes I wanted to take. I was told that everyone must take beginning screenwriting first; so I treated Ron Friedman's beginning screenwriting course like a master class in screenwriting. I learned about the elements that are included in films that must be present for each scene to work. Our class explored tying storylines to deep psychological needs every human being feels. I've written a bit about my experiences that semester on this blog already.
Next, I asked for permission to take classes I was hungering for--business of screenwriting, and screenplay structure--I took them with master's level writing and directing students. It's funny, in those required classes I found more answers to questions I was hungering for--what are the differences between the best prime time cable/TV show (well-made and well-written, slick, polished), and feature films? What makes movie audiences lose track of time so that two-and-a-half hours seem like 15 minutes? Why are some movies so bad that the first 20 minutes seem like 10 hours?
Often, required courses aren't the courses that students are most excited to take. A friend who, while in dental school once mentioned his experience in a required "business of dentistry" class. Many of the students didn't listen; didn't participate. They wanted to be doing what they loved--dentistry. But later, after graduation, when their practices were not doing well, they would wish they hadn't been so creative about doing everything a student can do in class, except learning.
I didn't miss a class and in these SCA classes I began to tie new information with things I'd learned in the past.
Gems: Audiences are hungry for inventive, good stories that are told visually, using what Ron Friedman calls the screenwriter's palette of tools: dialogue; costume; supporting characters; psychology; knowledge of history and architecture, music. After reviewing a scene a student had written, he described how the screenwriter can write so skillfully that he can control and pinpoint the exact spot on the screen where the audience's eyes will be fixed. A huge wow moment for me.
From Don Bohlinger I learned structure (it was the first class I thought I might not pass; I spent hours on the take-home final, reviewing class notes, and using everything I'd studied previously. He later said that I'd scored 100 on the final and that he was using it as a template for grading the rest of the finals).
For the first time I understood that, like skillfully written symphonies, award-winning screenplays and films rely on structure and a knowledge of and use of basic screenwriting elements to tell the story.
In contrast, many blockbusters are like the charismatic but unpolished guy in the party; random people crowded around to hear him tell a funny story. There is energy there and some of the best, like this year's raunchy "Bridesmaids," make the audience laugh at the story and also make them feel something.
To write a screenplay that later creates an experience for audiences where the lights dim and within minutes there's electricity in the air; indescribable yet real energy as the audience anticipates, laughs together, cares about the characters, cries together...that's up to us as screenwriters.
NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for "The Business of Writing for Screen and Television," a School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year road map into the industry.
USC allows alumni, with permission from the department, to continue to take classes. At first, the School of Cinematic Arts' writing division didn't let me take the classes I wanted to take. I was told that everyone must take beginning screenwriting first; so I treated Ron Friedman's beginning screenwriting course like a master class in screenwriting. I learned about the elements that are included in films that must be present for each scene to work. Our class explored tying storylines to deep psychological needs every human being feels. I've written a bit about my experiences that semester on this blog already.
Next, I asked for permission to take classes I was hungering for--business of screenwriting, and screenplay structure--I took them with master's level writing and directing students. It's funny, in those required classes I found more answers to questions I was hungering for--what are the differences between the best prime time cable/TV show (well-made and well-written, slick, polished), and feature films? What makes movie audiences lose track of time so that two-and-a-half hours seem like 15 minutes? Why are some movies so bad that the first 20 minutes seem like 10 hours?
Often, required courses aren't the courses that students are most excited to take. A friend who, while in dental school once mentioned his experience in a required "business of dentistry" class. Many of the students didn't listen; didn't participate. They wanted to be doing what they loved--dentistry. But later, after graduation, when their practices were not doing well, they would wish they hadn't been so creative about doing everything a student can do in class, except learning.
I didn't miss a class and in these SCA classes I began to tie new information with things I'd learned in the past.
Gems: Audiences are hungry for inventive, good stories that are told visually, using what Ron Friedman calls the screenwriter's palette of tools: dialogue; costume; supporting characters; psychology; knowledge of history and architecture, music. After reviewing a scene a student had written, he described how the screenwriter can write so skillfully that he can control and pinpoint the exact spot on the screen where the audience's eyes will be fixed. A huge wow moment for me.
From Don Bohlinger I learned structure (it was the first class I thought I might not pass; I spent hours on the take-home final, reviewing class notes, and using everything I'd studied previously. He later said that I'd scored 100 on the final and that he was using it as a template for grading the rest of the finals).
For the first time I understood that, like skillfully written symphonies, award-winning screenplays and films rely on structure and a knowledge of and use of basic screenwriting elements to tell the story.
In contrast, many blockbusters are like the charismatic but unpolished guy in the party; random people crowded around to hear him tell a funny story. There is energy there and some of the best, like this year's raunchy "Bridesmaids," make the audience laugh at the story and also make them feel something.
To write a screenplay that later creates an experience for audiences where the lights dim and within minutes there's electricity in the air; indescribable yet real energy as the audience anticipates, laughs together, cares about the characters, cries together...that's up to us as screenwriters.
NOTE: These entries are inspired by the final assignment for "The Business of Writing for Screen and Television," a School of Cinematic Arts' course taught by Frank Wuliger. Hoping to help his students become working screenwriters, he asked us to create a personal, five-year road map into the industry.
